SOME DAYS SUCK LIKE A LOLLIPOP
by Digitalwave
Summary: Some days you really wished you'd stayed in bed.


Notes: Warning! Teen!chesters straight ahead. :)

Disclaimer: The characters in this story remain the property of Eric Kripke, Robert Singer and related production companies. None of the pretties belong to me, I'm only borrowing them.

**SOME DAYS SUCK LIKE A LOLLIPOP**

Sam burst through the door of his bedroom, flinging his backpack toward the wall as he flopped down upon the bed. Exhaling noisily he scrubbed at his eyes. Man, it sucked to always have to be the geek, the new kid in school. He was so freaking tired of always feeling like he walked around with a huge 'kick me' sign plastered on his ass! Not being able to really fight back like he'd been trained to made the suckage meter climb even higher as far as he was concerned.

Rolling over he curled in on himself, trying his best to make his lanky form invisible. Sam gave his unsuspecting pillow another angry punch but it didn't really help.

He knew that lying here feeling sorry for himself wouldn't really change anything but, damn it, he'd earned the right. Today was his birthday. He was officially fourteen years old as of midnight last night but had anyone even remembered? Had anyone even bothered to call? Nope! Nada. Not one darned call.

Dad didn't really surprise him. It hurt, sure. It just seemed like, if it didn't directly relate to training or the hunt, he wasn't even on the same plane of existence as him and Dean any more.

But, Dean? He'd never forgotten, ever. Not as far back as Sam could remember anyways. That was why, as much as he'd like for his rotten mood just to be his, he was scared. What if something had happened? What if Dean and dad weren't making it home this time?

Sam couldn't even call them to be sure. That punk-ass Robby Hansen had made sure of that when he'd pushed Sam down in the hall outside Home Room today. He'd landed right on his cell phone which was tucked into his back pocket. When Sam had checked he'd found it smashed into a ka-zillion pieces. Since the crappy apartment that they were renting didn't have a phone he was just screwed.

Sighing again Sam closed his eyes. Maybe if he tried to sleep this day would finally be over with for another year. Curling tighter around his pillow he finally drifted off.

The next time he woke the room lay in darkness. Sam had no idea how long he'd been asleep. Glancing blearily over at the clock he saw that it was just barely ten o'clock at night. Great! Would this day never end?

Swinging his legs over the side of the bed he sat up, nearly jumping out of his skin at the rustle of noise to his right. Someone was sitting in his desk chair, just a dark silhouette against the dim glow filtering in from the street light outside.

Heart rate ratcheting up Sam dropped down into a defensive crouch, smoothly grabbing his knife from under his pillow as he moved.

The brightness momentarily blinded him as his desk light clicked on. Shielding his eyes against the glare, his other hand remained raised, weapon ready against attack.

"About time some of that training I've drilled into you kicked in, Bitch!"

Sam scrambled to his feet, his knife clattering noisily at his feet. "Dean?"

Dean smiled lopsidedly, his face multi-colored with new bruises as he gestured at the cast and sling covering his left arm. "Yep, in the mostly intact flesh, Sammy... Didn't think I'd forget your birthday, now, did you?"

Sam bolted across the room, his own grin splitting his face. He stopped short of the huge hug he wanted to give Dean, uncertainty coloring his eyes.

Dean smiled again, moving a little slowly as he ruffled Sam's hair with his uninjured hand. "It's okay little bro, just gently, huh?"

Sam folded himself around Dean's right side, relief flooding through him at the solid feel of his brother as he carefully hugged him close. Dropping to the floor, Sam leaned against Dean's leg, watching him closely; afraid if he closed his eyes he'd disappear again.

"Dean? What happened? Does it hurt? Did you get it? Is Dad okay...?"

Dean laughed quietly, the sound hitching like it hurt. "Whoa, junior, slow down, take a breath! Give the injured man a chance to answer, okay?"

Sam nodded wordlessly, making a zipping motion with his hand.

Dean ruffled his hair again, ignoring Sam's indignant squawk of protest.

"Better, Squirt! Okay, to answer your questions… One, I zigged when I should have zagged. Two, you betcha, hurts like hell. But that horse pill Dad gave me should be kicking in soon. Three, of course we fricking got it. And, four, yep, Dad's fine. He's in the other room, stowing our stuff." At that, Dean moved slowly to his feet, wobbling only a little as Sam jumped up to help steady him.

"Speaking of which, you need to get your sorry ass out there and help." Dean motioned to his arm. "Especially since I can't"

Sam felt his face burn with embarrassment. He'd been so worried about Dean he'd almost forgotten about dad. He jumped toward the door, Dean trailing along more slowly behind him. "Sure, Dean. Right now, I promise…"

Tumbling out into the combination dining and living room he was surprised to find his dad calmly sitting at their rickety kitchen table. A slow grin creased his father's usually stern features as Sam's mouth fell open in surprise. There, sitting right at his elbow, was a huge-assed cake, with candles, presents and everything.

"Dad…?"

"Didn't really think we'd forgotten it there, did you, sport?"

Sam felt his cheeks burn even hotter. "Oh, no Sir, not really..." He decided to ignore Dean's noisy snort of disbelief behind him as Sam moved toward the table and his dad.

Sam heard his dad chuckle quietly. "Never happen, Sam. Besides, Dean woulda' made my life a holy hell if we had."

Dean's quiet 'Bite me' was almost muffled by his moan of pain as he eased himself down in a chair. Almost, but not quite.

"Son…"

"Sorry, Sir." Looking over at Sam, he lazily waggled his free hand at him. "Bring me some of that cake there, Sammy. I'm feeling kinda' faint."

Sam grinned at both of them, throwing a sketchy bow at his brother as he moved toward the sink for plates and a knife. "Yes, sir, your holiness, sir…"

Sam laughed out loud as he heard "Damned straight", "Dean…" and "Sorry, Sir…" said almost simultaneously behind him.

You know, his family might be kind of weird but, that was okay, so was he. He had cake, it was still his birthday and his family was home. Safe and, almost, sound. Maybe this birthday thing wasn't quite so sucky after all.

Yeah, some days sucked like a lollipop. Some days, you just wanted a do over from the start. Sam smiled as he dished out the cake. But, you know what? Some days… Some days don't.

fin


End file.
